Maybe it was the reason why Miles had been looking so tired lately. But Ben and Linus both worked the night shift, and Miles was more of a swing-shift consultant. It seemed like I should have seen them all together in the lab.
Unless they were hiding.
“I hope he’s not pushing himself too hard,” I said. “This year has been a tough transition for him, moving from the Toronto facility, adjusting to our lab. And a lot of dark shit went down last year.”
“That’s a succinct way of putting it.” Tasha gave me a look. “How are you doing, Tess? With the dark shit?”
How am I doing?
Every day, I feel a little bit closer to a complete systems meltdown.
I’m seeing a goblin psychiatrist who knows that I’m full of shit.
I’m trying to raise two teenagers, and both of them have the power to either kill me in my sleep or burn down my house.
And most mornings, I wake up with the feeling of hands on my throat.
I untied the apron, pitched the gloves in the trash, and smiled. “I’m breathing. In and out. Repeated-ly. Seems to be working.”
“That’s really all you can do.” She tore a sheet from her clipboard, placed it in a manila envelope, and gave it to me. “We’re still waiting for the toxicology report, but here are my notes from the post exam. At least it’s something.”
“I’ll put them on Selena’s desk.”
Tasha winced. “Try not to make extended eye contact with her. She’s especially predatory this morning.”
I turned around and walked toward the door, envelope in hand. “I can deal with her. I already live with a predator.”
As it turned out, Selena’s office was empty. The fax machine was whirring, and a slight breeze from the open window had disturbed the leaning tower of forms next to her computer, but the room’s oc-cupant was nowhere to be found.
I started to walk toward the trace lab, then thought better of it. No use disturbing Cindée when she’d probably only just started analyzing the breastplate. It wasn’t every day that you got a sixteenth-century suit of armor to play with.
I headed for the break room to look for Derrick, and found it empty as well. Had I missed something? Had everyone gone on a pilgrimage to the Bread Garden across the street? If so, Derrick had better bring me back a cinnamon twist. My blood sugar was starting to dip.
Becka’s office door was open. I poked my head in, trying to locate her amidst the slithering blue and red Ethernet cables and blinking routers. Her long black hair had purple tips this week, and she was squinting at a bank of monitors.
“Corrupt boot sector?” She clicked the mouse that was nearest her, a tad aggressively. “I’ll show you a bloody corrupt boot sector, you sack of—”
“Hey, Becka.”
She wheeled around her office chair. “Tess. I was just in the middle of fixing the lab’s netware.”
“I don’t really know what that means.”
“Actually, neither do I. We just upgraded to something even more complicated than Vista. And I didn’t think there was such a thing.”
“They’re probably not paying you enough.”
Her eyes sparkled for a second. “Actually, my paycheck is the one thing I don’t complain about around here. The CORE offers some kickass remuneration.”
“Wow. Maybe someday I’ll see some of that.”
“If you become a systems analyst, you definitely will. There’s just no money in fieldwork anymore.”
I shrugged. “My last application for a line of credit got approved. That’s something, at least. And Derrick’s pretty good at saving. Unless there’s any kind of sales activity at Holt Renfrew.”
“I just saw him in the interrogation room with Selena.” I stared at her. “Derrick’s getting interrogated? What did he do?”
“I think he’s just doing an exercise. Something to do with precognition. Selena had flash cards.”
“This I have to see.” I waved. “If you’re still here in two hours, I’ll bring you a coffee. How do you take
Unless they were hiding.
“I hope he’s not pushing himself too hard,” I said. “This year has been a tough transition for him, moving from the Toronto facility, adjusting to our lab. And a lot of dark shit went down last year.”
“That’s a succinct way of putting it.” Tasha gave me a look. “How are you doing, Tess? With the dark shit?”
How am I doing?
Every day, I feel a little bit closer to a complete systems meltdown.
I’m seeing a goblin psychiatrist who knows that I’m full of shit.
I’m trying to raise two teenagers, and both of them have the power to either kill me in my sleep or burn down my house.
And most mornings, I wake up with the feeling of hands on my throat.
I untied the apron, pitched the gloves in the trash, and smiled. “I’m breathing. In and out. Repeated-ly. Seems to be working.”
“That’s really all you can do.” She tore a sheet from her clipboard, placed it in a manila envelope, and gave it to me. “We’re still waiting for the toxicology report, but here are my notes from the post exam. At least it’s something.”
“I’ll put them on Selena’s desk.”
Tasha winced. “Try not to make extended eye contact with her. She’s especially predatory this morning.”
I turned around and walked toward the door, envelope in hand. “I can deal with her. I already live with a predator.”
As it turned out, Selena’s office was empty. The fax machine was whirring, and a slight breeze from the open window had disturbed the leaning tower of forms next to her computer, but the room’s oc-cupant was nowhere to be found.
I started to walk toward the trace lab, then thought better of it. No use disturbing Cindée when she’d probably only just started analyzing the breastplate. It wasn’t every day that you got a sixteenth-century suit of armor to play with.
I headed for the break room to look for Derrick, and found it empty as well. Had I missed something? Had everyone gone on a pilgrimage to the Bread Garden across the street? If so, Derrick had better bring me back a cinnamon twist. My blood sugar was starting to dip.
Becka’s office door was open. I poked my head in, trying to locate her amidst the slithering blue and red Ethernet cables and blinking routers. Her long black hair had purple tips this week, and she was squinting at a bank of monitors.
“Corrupt boot sector?” She clicked the mouse that was nearest her, a tad aggressively. “I’ll show you a bloody corrupt boot sector, you sack of—”
“Hey, Becka.”
She wheeled around her office chair. “Tess. I was just in the middle of fixing the lab’s netware.”
“I don’t really know what that means.”
“Actually, neither do I. We just upgraded to something even more complicated than Vista. And I didn’t think there was such a thing.”
“They’re probably not paying you enough.”
Her eyes sparkled for a second. “Actually, my paycheck is the one thing I don’t complain about around here. The CORE offers some kickass remuneration.”
“Wow. Maybe someday I’ll see some of that.”
“If you become a systems analyst, you definitely will. There’s just no money in fieldwork anymore.”
I shrugged. “My last application for a line of credit got approved. That’s something, at least. And Derrick’s pretty good at saving. Unless there’s any kind of sales activity at Holt Renfrew.”
“I just saw him in the interrogation room with Selena.” I stared at her. “Derrick’s getting interrogated? What did he do?”
“I think he’s just doing an exercise. Something to do with precognition. Selena had flash cards.”
“This I have to see.” I waved. “If you’re still here in two hours, I’ll bring you a coffee. How do you take
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